Lois Bechtle at 10 months old with her mother and three sisters boarding a ship to Pasto, Colombia.

In May 1941 at just 10 months old, Lois Bechtle arrived in a little town called Pasto in the Andes Mountains of Colombia. Her mother, Katherine, known as Señora Catalina, had returned alone with her four children from New Jersey to continue her late husband, Lester Morgan’s missionary work. He had pioneered five churches in Colombia, but had fallen gravely ill, which caused the family to return to New Jersey where he died four months after Lois’s birth.

“My mother is my heroine,” Lois said. “It took tremendous courage to go back to Colombia, against great opposition from her family.”

In a bustling five-bedroom home, Lois grew up learning Spanish as her first language. The house served as a clinic and counsel for the sick, poor and mentally disturbed. As a child, Lois assisted her mother in medical and dental procedures. She pulled medical instruments out of a bag, mixed concoctions and held the patient’s head. Lois and her sisters travelled everywhere their mother was called. They went on horseback deep into the Andes Mountains to care for people in need, or on canoes on the Amazon River into the jungles to to plant new churches.

Señora Catalina, Lois Bechtle’s mother, treating a patient in Colombia.

“I always felt privileged to be a part of her work,” Lois said. “I never saw her question God. She had such enthusiasm. I never saw my mother depressed or discouraged.”

When Lois was eight years old, political turmoil struck when the Colombian president was shot during the revolution. At that time, townspeople gathered in the streets shouting, “exterminate the protestants.” Four hundred people marched in rage shouting, “kill the protestants.” They surrounded Señora Catalina’s home.

“I remember thinking, this is the last day of my life, I’m going to die and I didn’t know if I was going to heaven,” Lois said. “I told my mother ‘I’m not ready to die.’ She asked me if I wanted to pray. As she prayed with me, a sense of peace came over me.”

Her mother, unfazed, walked out onto the balcony and confronted the crowd by unfurling a Colombia flag.

Eventually, the army came to disburse them.  Senora Catalina became a legend in Colombia and America. Harvard scholars studying the Amazon would stay at the house. There was always lively discourse at the dinner table. A teacher from North Carolina came down to teach Lois, her sisters and other American and European children in Pasto. It was then and also on trips back to New Jersey that Lois became acquainted with English and American culture.

Lois recalls being in shock of all the cars and traffic upon arriving in New Jersey. On Sunday mornings, they visited the local churches. Lois and her three sisters would stand in a row in front of a wide audience as their mother shared the stories of her missionary work.

Lois Bechtle, her mother and her sister in Colombia.

“That’s how I learned faith,” Lois said. “Honestly there were days, we didn’t have anything to eat and it would be brought by the people my mother cared for. We had a car that needed to be fixed, and we went to the post office and there was check from America. When cashed in Colombia pesos, it was exactly the amount she needed to get the car fixed and that was how I learned how to trust God. She didn’t push us or tell us what to believe.”

In 1956 at 16 years old, Lois suffered a shot of culture shock when her mother sent her to live with her grandmother in Bloomfield, New Jersey to finish high school. She felt as though she had been dropped down from Mars into a scene from “Happy Days,” the 1950s television show. Lois was out place from head to toe. She would walk to school with the only African American student because they were both so unique in a world that idolized sameness. She gained 40 pounds in the first year living away from her mother and the close-knit life among her sisters in Colombia.

After graduation, Lois attended Houghton College to obtain her nursing degree and then went on to Columbia University in New York City to complete her Bachelor’s Degree in public health nursing. From 1961 to 1963, in the heat of the Kennedy years and the Civil Rights era, Lois encountered vocal, angry students, the Black Panther movement outrage that sparked her to ask why they were so angry. She had not grown up in America with this tangible divide between black and whites, but she had experienced discrimination as a minority in Columbia.

“I was still very naïve, yet I was very strong in my beliefs and principles that turned out to draw a wonderful, special group of friends to me,” she said.

Lois Bechtle, of Hospice Care of the West, as a young nurse.

As a young nurse, she began working for a public health clinic in Spanish Harlem. She recalls recognizing the symptoms of a person with leprosy before anyone in the clinic could figure out what the patient suffered from, as her mother brought treatment for leprosy, tuberculosis and mental health to Colombia.

“I felt in my element. I could speak to the patients and it was very clear to me I had found where I had value,” Lois said. Around that time she began to ask God for the man she would marry.

“I prayed for a man who would honor God, a man who was stronger than I am, and that meant he had to be really strong and a man like my father, who I admire,” she said.

Around 1965, she became reacquainted with Sam Bechtle, the son of her mother’s dear friend in New Jersey. Sam knew of the legendary Katherine and her daughters from the presentations her mother would make at his church. At the time, Sam was a mechanical engineer and he spent his weekends in youth ministry helping out poor children and driving them by bus to church on Sunday. Some of the children called him Dad. Lois and he shared so much in common that she just knew this was the man she had been praying for.

On April 15, 1966, they married and honeymooned in Puerto Rico. Upon their return, she moved to New Jersey and they bought a house. For two years, they tried to have a baby. She yearned to be a mother.

“Infertility was an extremely painful experience,” Lois said. “The doctor finally told me due to some earlier ovarian issues not to even try that it would never happen.”

Lois and Sam started the process of adoption. They were told it would take five years. In a miraculous turn of events, four months after they filed the paperwork, Jonathan was born. They picked him up from the hospital on Dec. 10, 1969.

“I took time off of work and just held him and loved him for nine months without stopping,” she said.

Lois and Sam Bechtle on their wedding day.

Three months into her time off, Lois became pregnant. The birth of Helen was an absolute miracle. Shortly after, they were blessed with another miracle when Katherine was born. The family moved to Chicago and then Sam received a job in Puerto Rico for Abbott Laboratory. In Puerto Rico, Lois started a Bible study and then a church for the group of expatriates living in their village.

“Those were good years, we all came from different backgrounds but found a commonality in the word of God,” she said. “We also loved playing tennis, going to the beach, travelling and enjoying family life.”

After Puerto Rico, the family moved to Mission Viejo where the children grew up and attended public school. Lois taught them to stand up for what they believe in. She supported their sports, drama club and watched them in awe grow up to become amazing Godly people.

“I loved being a mother and my husband is an amazing father,” Lois said. “We taught our children serve, to serve to serve and also to be nonconformist, to swim against the stream and to always be the friend who sits next to the new child at school.”

Lois began working again as a per diem nurse in 1978 at Saddleback Hospital. Each year, as a family they served as counselors to abused foster kids at Camp Allendale in Idylwilde. They became so close over the years to one little girl Komisha, who became a part of their family after she turned 18 years old and aged out of the foster system.

At the 40-year anniversary of her mother and father starting the church in Pasto, Lois, her family and her sisters returned to Colombia. The town fathers held a public celebration for Senora Catalina, who they had alienated for many years. They gave her the statue that represented the “Keys to the City”, an honor of accepting her and her missionary work completely. In the ceremony speech, they said, “We couldn’t read the bible, but we saw the bible lived out by you everyday for us.”

Not long after, following the footsteps of her mother’s pioneering spirit, Lois took on a Director of Nursing position at the first hospice, Community Hospice, in Orange County in 1992.

“It was an exciting time,” Lois said. “The folks from Community Hospice in Arizona came here with a passion and vision for hospice that we carried out. At the time, I hired Debbie Robson as one of our hospice nurses.”

Deb was so thrilled to be a part of this new organization; she sent Lois a bouquet of flowers to say, “Thank you.” They served many years together shaping the way hospice was delivered to patients in Orange County until Community Hospice was bought out by VITAS. They went their separate ways until more recently when Lois joined Hospice Care of the West as a Quality Assurance Performance and Improvement Coordinator after retiring for a year in 2009. Today, they work together again here at Hospice Care of the West, where these hospice pioneers of Orange County continue to raise the bar and evolve how we serve our patients in hospice care.

Looking back over her life, Lois feels amazingly blessed. Today, Jonathan is a pastor and father to three girls and one adopted girl, Helen is a journalist and mother to one boy and two girls and Katherine named after Senora Catalina is a nurse and mother to four adopted girls. Lois passes on this wisdom to her three children and 11 grandchildren.

“The legacy that we have received from those who came before us is what I now pass on to my family. God is faithful and trustworthy and he does deserve to have our best.  He is never ever a debtor to any man; he will always bless you if you follow him. He has blessed our family more than we can expect to deserve and I credit that to my parents and their faithfulness to God.”

Thank you Lois, for sharing your life with us that exemplifies faith. It was an honor to interview you and discover your life story. I felt as though I walked back into time to experience a true state of faith.

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Edvin Tejeda, home health aide, at Hospice Care of the West.

When he was just a boy, Edvin Tejeda, a home health aide at Hospice Care of the West, felt a higher calling to care for the whole person both body and spirit. He brings a presence of peace, calm and healing to the bedside of his patients.

He grew up in Quiragua, Guatemala, home to the ancient Mayan culture.  As a little boy, Edwin played in the shadow of these monuments that echoed the ideas, values and achievements of a past civilization. The tangible, yet invisible presence of these ancestors shaped his appreciation for history and wisdom handed down from one generation to the next.

In this lush tropical environment on the Motagua River, he swam and fished. Edwin was the youngest of the four children in his family. His grandparents raised him. Edvin’s father left before he had a chance to get to know him.  Though Edvin never met his own father, he felt an intrinsic connection to God, his father in heaven. At eight years old, his grandparents sent him to church where he discovered through the Bible and the teachings that God was never far away from him. His acceptance of Jesus into his life marked the most memorable of his childhood memories and thus became the inspiration for the man he would become.

At age 13 years old while fishing on the river, he injured his foot. His grandparents rushed him to the medical center in town. As he entered the hospital, Edwin felt instantly awed by the nurses and doctors caring for him and others around him. Edwin knew then, he would one day become a nurse. Not long after, he recalls fishing on the river when he saw a boy fall off a passing boat. He jumped in the river and saved the boy’s life. This would be the first of many.

When I asked Eddvin what his grandfather taught him, he chuckled and said very confidently, “Everything.” He recalls, many days of his youth fishing on the river with his grandfather and helping his grandmother raise chickens in the yard of their home, each activity a source of food for the family.  His grandmother guided him to respect all people, most especially the elderly. She encouraged him to study so that he would not have a life of hard labor.

He studied hard in school and did not succumb to any peer pressure of activities, smoking and drinking that could steer him from his dream of becoming a nurse. If you asked his grandmother back then how she would describe her grandson. She would say, “Edvin is a good boy.”

At 18 years old, Edvin became a nurse. He worked on the pediatric unit in the local hospital.

“It’s very exciting to care for babies just one to two hours after they are born,” he recalled. “It’s the beginning of life.”

One afternoon on the pediatric unit, all of Edwin’s fellow nurses on the floor had gone to lunch. He was the only one on the unit when he heard a father yell, “My son, my son!” Edwin ran over. The eight-month old baby stopped breathing. Edwin immediately administered CPR. He revived the baby. The life that swept out of the baby came back. The father filled with fear was overcome with relief and gratitude. Early in his nursing career, Edwin had become a guardian angel for his patients and their families. It takes a special kind of person to jump into action in a risky situation when everyone around you is in a panic.

Even with all the new beginnings in the hospital, he also encountered many lives coming to an end.  Edvin dealt with a lot of patients suffering from fatal diseases, accidents, and there were times when he would be there at the end with his patients and their families.

“Everyday, before I go to work, I asked God, “If there is somebody who wants to know God, let me feel it,” Edvin said. “I would sense when someone would talk about life and life after death. And I would say, don’t be afraid, Jesus died for you. And then, I would pray and sometimes, they would accept Jesus. And they would have peace at the end.”

While working in the hospital in Guatemala, he met his wife, Linda. She is a nurse too. They both wanted a better life. The city was not so safe back then. The streets were ravaged with crime.

In 2004, he made the leap. Edvin moved out to California where his mother lived. Not long after, Linda joined him. They married.  Soon, Edvin became a father to his baby boy, David.

We have Ana to thank for inspiring Edvin to join us here at Hospice Care of the West three years ago. She told him about hospice. After being raised by his grandparents and spending time as a nurse caring for patients and their families in Guatamla, he felt all the paths and experiences of his life melded together to serve hospice patients.

Edvin is often celebrated here at Celebration. I can recall, Shannon sharing the stories of how he always attends the Veteran pinning ceremonies that honor our veterans for their service in the U.S. Military. Edvin baths his patients and dresses them with honor so they are suited in dignity when pinned and saluted by the Color Guard.

Everyday, he prays for his patients before going to work. And at times, he shares Jesus with them to help easy their soul on the end of life journey.

Some of the folks on the hospice team shared these loving thoughts,

Caroline Chiou, RN, said, “Edvin has such a kind and loving heart. He goes above and beyond for all our patients to ensure they are comfortable. Thank you for your phenomenal care!”

And Jennifer Villegas, said, “He is always kind, responsible, and respectful. I truly appreciate working with Edvin.”

Today, his grandparents would be proud. The wisdom they passed on to him permeates his service to his patients and also to his hospice team.

In hospice, Edvin loves talking with his patients about life. He has learned a lot about many different cultures with different names for God.

When I asked him what wisdom would he like to pass on to his son David., I felt Edvin’s heart open. His voice quickened as if moved by the spirit and eager to pass on his wisdom.

“I never know what day will be my last and everyday when I leave my home, I pray that I return home,” Edvin said. “I want my son to know, I am your friend, I am your father, but the most important relationship you have is with God. And you must respect all people, especially older people. I’ve learned that though they follow a different God, we are the same. And we must respect all people and all cultures.

Take care of your body and your health. And study in school so you won’t have to do hard labor.”

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Being a Compassionate Companion Resources

We started a series on “Being A Compassionate Companion at the End of Life” at Hospice Care of the West. I gave many classes out in the local community and faith-based communities. They were well received and many folks reached out later asking for resources and information shared within my presentations that they could share with their family and friends. As the season of fall is upon us, the sun filled days are giving way to longer dark nights. It is not an easy time for people facing the end of life both for patients and families. My hope in sharing this series that some folks will receive insight to spark meaningful conversations as they gather with family. If you have any questions or if you would like me to share this presentation with your community, leave me a note in the comments section. You can download the presentation here.

HCOTW Facing The End Of Life W Someone You Love FINAL 2

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Julie Voelz, Hospice Care of the West Nurse

On the 10^th anniversary of service as the first nurse at Hospice Care of the West, we are honored to celebrate Julie Voelz. Her journey is a shining example of following your heart and discovering the purpose that God has for your life.

Mark Twain, American author once said and it resonates today as Julie shares her story that: “The two most important days in one’s life is the day you were born and the day you find out why.”

In the late 1950s, Julie was born as the sixth child of eight in Deerborne, Michigan. Her hometown for those of you who don’t know is Henry Ford’s hometown.  Her father worked for Ford Motor Company and her mother was a 1950s housewife. Reared in a bustling Irish Catholic family, Julie experienced a rich unity between family and church life.  Her childhood home was a former covenant for nuns across the street from their church.

The seasons of her childhood were clearly defined by the church fundraising festivals and holiday celebrations of Christmas and Easter. The church bells governed her daily rituals as the ringing of six o’clock ushered in Julie and her siblings from playtime for dinner, which was the same time every day in her home.

“The church was an extension of our home,” Julie reflected.

Dinner was nothing short of a production directed by her mother. Her father arrived home not long before and would sip a martini before dinner was served at the living room table, where the family of 10 sat down together. Prayer and blessings began each meal. At bedtime, Julie’s mother knelt down at the bedside with her children to pray with them before they laid their heads to rest.

“Though my mother had her hands full,” Julie said. “I admire how she kept our family intact. My security as a child was never challenged and that is easy to take for granted.”

Her mother was the spiritual center of gravity for the family. She gave Julie a spiritual foundation and security that remains present today. Julie knew at a young age that life was temporal. She had a fascination with death and the afterlife.  And a strong intuitive understanding of heaven, angels and that there was more to life than what we can see and touch.

Her father had a knack for putting folks at ease and a kindness that could connect with everyone, a quality that lives on in Julie today. He always had a joke or story to share to make those around him laugh.

“My father was a good dad,” Julie said with a note of comfort in her voice. “He loved my mother and he was devoted to providing for his family.”

Julie Voelz, Nurse at Hospice Care of the West, and her family.

Music filled her home as a child. Her mother played the piano and her father played the trumpet together in the evenings and weekends. She shared a room with one of her six sisters. There was never a shortage of someone to play with among her seven siblings, who could make up teams for red light/green light and dodge ball. They all attended the school attached to the church across the street.

“I had built in playmates,” Julie said.

As a child, she yearned for a glamorous life as an airline stewardess. She dreamed of travel and adventure.  Yet the stability of home, church and community anchored Julie. It was a given that she would marry and become a mother.

Her free spirit inspired some rebellious years as a young adult. Though, it was the late 60s and 70s. The entire young adult population rebelled against the norms and values of their parents’ World War II generation.  Being so close to Detroit, Motown music colored her teenaged years, her weekends filled with reveling and parties.

After high school, she obtained her secretarial science degree in college that paved the path to become a secretary at the Ford Motor Company, where her father and sister worked. She and her sister rented an apartment together. And in 1978, she bought her first brand new rust color hot Ford Mustang.

That year, the call of adventure beckoned Julie when a friend invited her to stay with her cousin, a Pacific Southwest Airlines stewardess, based in San Diego, California. It was late February.

“The weather in Michigan was cold, I was ready for a change,” Julie said. “I had never been to California, I’d heard about it. When we arrived it was warm, balmy. We stayed in a apartment that was more like a resort-setting. I kept saying, ‘I’m moving to California.’”

When she arrived back in Michigan, she walked out of the airport into an ice storm. Tears streamed down her face. Her heart burned for California. She had to find a way to go back.

She began searching for Ford plants in California, and eventually Ford Aerospace in Newport Beach, California surfaced. Julie set her internal compass to point west. First, she had to break the news to her parents and family.

“There was resentment from my sisters,” Julie said. “They would say,  ‘You’re never going to move out there.’ The sister I lived with didn’t make it easy for me. There was a sense of abandoning them. I had to do it. I had grown up enmeshed with them. I needed to live without the controlling forces. I needed my own life. It was bitter sweet.”

She received the job with Ford Aerospace. Her father helped Julie map the Route 66 to drive out to California. She planned to move to Irvine, a neighborhood and community that she found on a roommate service.

“I believe it was God’s intervention as the desire was so strong and overwhelmed my heart,” she said. “I wanted a new start and a better place to live.”

Her grandmother died just days before she planned to leave to drive across country in her Ford Mustang, with all her belongings packed inside. She attended the funeral and said her good-byes to the whole family gathered together in grief. It was not easy to see the only life she knew recede in the back windshield of her car that day.

There was no GPS or cell phones. She had a CB radio and her code name was Highway Star.

As she left Michigan, and found herself cruising through the hot desert in the middle of July, a smile crept over her face. She was chasing her California dream on Route 66. She stopped at campgrounds to sleep at night, as she worried about her belongings being stolen. The drive was beautiful. Flowers lined the highway and the stars filled the sky in New Mexico and Arizona. She picked up a young guy with a guitar at a gas station along the way, and eventually got rid of him at one of the rest stops in Arizona. The dramatic ocean cliffs came into view as she entered California.

“God protected me, there was so many things that could have happened to me and my Mustang” she said. “I didn’t have one flat tire or breakdown.”

She arrived in Irvine and immediately dove into her new life.

“Ford Aerospace was a big compound of young, single, fun, nice people,” Julie said. “I was living the good life in park west apartments with barbeques, pools, a clubhouse and tennis courts.”

In the midst of all the fun, she kept seeing a blond guy that attracted her at work and also just around at work social gatherings. On her way biking back to her home from a party in Balboa in Newport, she bumped into this guy again.

“I stopped my bike and said, ‘hey, don’t you work at Ford Aerospace,” she said. They started talking and he showed her where he lived in Newport. That afternoon, they played Frisbee on the beach.

“I remember biking back home that night, smiling, and happy to have met this new guy,” she said. “I pursued it when I saw him at work again, I invited him for a barbeque and we started spending time together. He was so easy to talk to. He cared about me. It was so natural. And it was a loving relationship. He even started attending my Lutheran church with me.”

Julie Voelz, Nurse at Hospice Care of the West, and her husband, Larry.

For a year, they spent time together playing on softball teams, camping, hiking and playing tennis. Until, he received an offer to go to Maryland. When he told Julie of the offer, he asked her to go. She only agreed to go if he wanted to be married. And he did. So, they swiftly prepared a wedding within a couple of months. Julie and Larry Voelz married in their church and celebrated their vows at a reception on a harbor cruise in Newport Beach on her 24^th Birthday. They honeymooned on a trip across the country to Maryland stopping to celebrate with her family in Michigan and his family in Wisconsin.

Julie got pregnant on her honeymoon. Julie and Larry agreed that she would become a stay-at-home mother. Larry was a systems engineer at Ford Aerospace in Research and Development, and later Raytheon. They eventually returned to California, Julie gave birth to her first daughter Jenelle.  She had fun back at home in California, taking her new daughter to the beach and being involved in their church. Four years later, they decided to have another child, Erica, and another four years brought a baby brother, Ryan, for the girls. As a mother, Julie had a newfound respect for her mother and dedication she had for her children.

“We were really involved in our children’s lives from girl scouts to boy scouts, to sports, camping and traveling together,” she said. “Irvine was a great place to raise a family. We could go out at night for a walk to get yogurt, and not worry about anything. It was like Deerborne.”

Once the kids got a little older, she became restless and so she started praying for a new path to surface once more in her life. She found a home health aide program that was intriguing, as she relished caring for the elderly and listening to stories of their past.

“I love the elderly,” she said. “They are really fun to talk to. The home health aide was a good fit for me. But it was very labor intensive. And so I decided to get my LVN.”

In the 1990s, she enrolled in a challenging nursing program at North Regional Occupational Program. Julie studied hard as only half the class graduated each year.

“I put my fears and threats from the staff of not graduating aside and focused on achieving my dream to become a nurse, “ she said. “And I survived, I graduated.”

She started at VITAS hospice and eventually became the first LVN hired by Gina Andres, the first Executive Director, at Hospice Care of the West in August 2004. Julie worked with Lori Stewart, RN, and the home health aides in growing the hospice.

“There were some hiccups along the way, as we were a start-up company, but my work was evolving. I was building my skills as a nurse. Gina did a great job making the company better and bigger. Each person added special gifts, to the program. The employees hired had a heart for hospice, which is key for a successful hospice.  You have to have a good group, everybody from the managers to the home health aides. Lori, Gina and I gave it our all. We really wanted to do the best we could to build the reputation of the hospice and carry it hopefully through to completion.”

Julie witnessed the growth of the company and the different foundation building that each executive director and team member brought to making Hospice Care of the West a premiere company.

“One of the big contributions made by Deb Robson to the evolution of this company is having these Celebrations focused on helping each other, helping the community, so the care is not just aimed around a family in crisis,” Julie said. “God blesses those kinds of companies, not just all about the money but about the service and compassion. We give the best care possible. It’s nice to have a career that I’m proud of. I feel God led me to hospice.”

Looking back over her life, Julie shared this piece of wisdom with her children.

“Trust God in all that you do. Acknowledge him in all ways and allow God to direct your path. I hope you each find your soul mate, and do not compromise your values. Be true to yourselves and live an authentic life. Find your passion and a career that you love to do. And know that I love you. We can always forgive each other and let the love for our family always be a priority in our lives.”

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Denise Carson, Author of Parting Ways, gives keynote speech on Grief Journeys at the Annual Hospice Care of the West Memorial Service.

I was invited to speak at the Hospice Care of the West Annual Memorial Service. This is one of my favorite communal rituals that the hospice organizes for their families who have lost a loved one that year. All the families come together to share life stories and share in their grief.  I don’t often speak directly about my grief journey. Admittedly it was a cathartic experience. I was profoundly moved by the other folks who stood during the open mic and shared how much my story meant to connecting to their own grief journey. As I listened to their grief journeys and life stories of loved ones lost, I realized how universal grief really is and that awe-inspiring moment gave me the courage to share this deeply personal story here on our blog. See below…

I’m honored to be with you here today. I remember very clearly my first memorial service at Hospice Care of the West in 2006. I wrote Mom on a rock in ritual of remembrance of her. And, I distinctly recall a feeling a palpable sense of community in my grief that I had never experienced before in a public setting.  As I listened to the life stories and reminiscences of others, I felt a sense of familiar and belonging.

At that time, I had been on a journey to write my book Parting Ways that led me across the country from New York City to California on quest to understand how grief inspires us to celebrate life even in our darkest hours of despair and loss. In retrospect, I set out as journalist but also as a daughter in search of others like me, so I would not have to do my grief journey alone.

I have learned to live with grief, as it is not something that you don’t get over after the funeral, or when you’ve cleaned out the closet or a year or even two years after the death.

The first time I learned about grief, in a college class, the sociology of death and dying, some 10 years after my father died of cancer. It was an unveiling of an invisible handicap for me. For a decade, I had suffered alone bottling this indescribable pain. I felt a physical tearing apart from my father. We did not have hospice because no one not even his own doctors accepted that he would die. Veiled in denial, he battled for two years in excruciating pain until his body finally succumbed to the cancer at 37 years old.

I’ve heard grief being described as a thicket that you cannot walk around but must instead walk down the middle feeling your way through the darkness and thorns to get to the other side.

I yearned to hear the timber of his voice, feel the strength of his hug, see his funny faces at the dinner table that always made me feel like everything would be ok.  I did not realize it at the time but I was constantly cycling through the stages of grief: Denial, Isolation, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. This condition that had plagued me for 10 years had a name: grief. But I had never gotten to the other side of it.

I did not fully appreciate that in order to recover from grief, we must find ways to walk through our emotional, spiritual and physical loss until my mother was diagnosed with cancer 12 years later. It was then when the grief of my father’s death surfaced and inspired how my mother and I celebrated her life, even in our deepest hours of despair. It was then that I began the walk through the thicket.

Hospice Care of the West Annual Memorial Service Lunch.

We have an interesting journey through hospice in that we have some indication as we enter the service that time is short. And, that triggers grief that can be paralyzing or inspiring, depending on which lens you’re looking through. The day my mother’s doctor shared that the chemotherapy was no longer working and that hospice was an option started our fast-forwarded journey to her last breath.

Since I had been a journalist at the LA Times, I had begun recording interviews with my mother about her life in a way that I interviewed my sources for a news story. Yet, after the hospice conversation, those interviews took on a new kind of significance. I felt my mother telling her stories with such vibrancy and detail that transported me from her bedside back in time to England where she grew up, her coming to America at 18 years old, traveling across the country in summer 1969 and meeting my father. Yet, when I asked about her career as a banker, she changed the subject.

Until one afternoon, when I asked her if she wanted to do an interview.

She smiled. “I think I want you to clean the clothes out of my closet.”

Usually this ritual occurs after the funeral and marks the acceptance that the deceased will not be returning. Admittedly, it would have been easier to say, “No, I’ll just do it later.” But if I had waited, I might have lost the stories locked in her closet.

I pulled out her business suits and laid them on the bed. She ran her fingers over the skirts and jackets, reawakening the power she felt wearing them in a Los Angeles skyscraper where she was one of the first women in bank management during the 1970s.

“Back then, women had to wear skirts,” she recalled, “Can you imagine the discrimination?” Although she kept her hair short and professional, she declared her femininity in bold royal blue, emerald, red and violet, standing out among the men in black suits.

As she reveled in the past, I realized how much her three-decade career meant. I decided to keep the suits. I’d never really paid attention to her life outside of being a single mom to my younger brother and me.

I pulled out a disco dress, slipped it on and danced around the room. She followed me with her eyes, saying I had my dad’s rhythm as she recounted how they cleared the dance floor when they discoed. They had been divorced, but you wouldn’t know it. At that moment, she was on that dance floor dancing with him in her mind. Just like she was in her childhood home when we talked about growing up in England. Or when she recalled the musty smell of the tent she stayed in during her summers in the English countryside. She had an uncanny ability to transport us to her past during our interviews.

As I worked on her closet, she smiled. “I’m content. I feel like I’m doing the right thing, having you do this,” she said. “One of the hardest things after a person dies is to go through their personal effects… You are learning everything, so in the aftermath, there really won’t be too much to do.”

She succeeded. I feel lucky not to be left with unanswered questions about her life, as I have so many about my father’s. Not long after, we had a living wake at our home. All of her friends and family came to the bedside in her last week of life to celebrate her. She was like a queen, the deathbed her throne, holding court, laughing, sharing stories and carrying on. I knew in a way that she did that for me, so I would not be alone, and to make the last sunset on her life a grand finale.

Something I have never shared publically, that I’d like to share with you now…as it sustained me in those hours after she died, when I did not want to continue living without her. I should say, we are in a very magical time after someone close to us has died. It’s like the walls between this world and whatever is next thin. For a brief time, you are connected to life beyond that which we can see and touch.

I was having dreams about my mother, and a friend of mine, said to me, why don’t you ask her how she is doing in the dream. That night in a very lucid dream that feels as real as you all do in front of me now. I was sitting at Thanksgiving dinner with my mother and family, and she said, ok, time to clean the dishes. I picked up my dish, and consciously followed her into the kitchen. And I asked her, how are you doing Mom? She turned to me and said, Oh, Denise, it is like a reunion here. And I have peace that truly does surpass all understanding. Your father and I, often walk with him in the garden, she said.

I came out of the dream with the deepest sense of gratitude for the time that I had been given with my mother. And I knew then she was ok, and that at sometime point I would eventually be ok too. Since, I understood grief was a very isolating experience, I set out to meet others like me on my journey rather than doing it alone as I had with my father.

While working on my book, I visited my stepmother, my father’s wife for an interview. We talked about his last days, and for the first time we cried together. Then she said to me, Denise, the only thing you remember is his death story. Tears rolled down her cheeks, she left the room. And then returned from her garage with a huge box full of photo albums and pictures. Together, we began looking through the pictures, of our pool parties, disco parties and my father dancing in his Italian tailored suits, and later I watched their wedding video…for the first time I recalled the memories that I had experienced with my dad that I couldn’t because they were blocked by my grief.

Later, I spoke to a grief oncologist. Yes, it’s what it sounds like a specialist in grief brought on my cancer death. It was then I learned that I had complied grief from their deaths. Again, I had a name for what I was living through. But that grief oncologist and many other grief specialists that I interviewed shared that life review that I did with my mother, the cleaning out her closet together and the unexpected joy we experienced from that time was what I needed to hold on to. And her death story, like his death story, I had to let go over. The death is the darkness, the life that we shared with them is light. In our grief, we must go to the light.

It was my mother’s life review, the light, which led me to the Hospice Care of the West through the life review video program as I researched my book. For two years, I spent time at the bedside witnessing patients’ record their life stories in a very raw last conversation that was later edited together with pictures and music. These recording of these life reviews brought families together at a time when they felt like they were being wrenched apart. Through reminiscences, they were transported back to better times, moments of glory, pivotal experiences that inspired wisdom to be shared and passed on to the next generation.

I believe part of the grief experience is to share our stories, as I’m sure all of you have experienced memories from your subconscious mind dump into your consciousness.  It makes us feel a bit foggy, and hazy.

I think this is a life review of the memories we have lived with the person we have had to part with. And it is memorial services like these that inspire us to sift through these memories and make sense of the life we shared with our person. We feel a sense responsibility and urgency to preserve their life story and wisdom to pass on to everyone we encounter, so our person has not lived vein. That is why this memorial service is so profound to me back then in 2006 and even today. It is not just family and friends, but a community brought together through the last season of life.

The post Through the Thicket of Grief to the Light of Remembering Life appeared first on Our Life Celebrations.

Dr. Jorge Rivero, Medical Director for Hospice Care of the West.

When Dr. Jorge Rivero was a young medical student in Lima, Peru, his grandfather, Felix, challenged his newly acquired patient care skills.  Felix refused to go to the hospital and obey doctor’s orders to treat his COPD. As a soon-to-be doctor, Jorge took charge of his grandfather’s urgent care at home.

Jorge began spending time at the bedside with his grandfather listening to his life review. Felix relived his days managing farms, crops and animal stock in the country north of Lima. Later in his life, Felix built a successful chili powder factory. Jorge unwittingly gave his grandfather the gift of knowing that his life would live on in his grandson’s memory.

By giving his respect and time to listen, Jorge earned his grandfather’s trust. The result—his grandfather listened to doctor’s orders and allowed Jorge to administer medications to improve his quality of life and keep him comfortable in the end.

“We didn’t learn about end of life care and hospice in medical school,” said Dr. Rivero, the Medical Director of Hospice Care of the West. His grandfather inspired his work today as geriatric physician and hospice doctor.

Though from as early as age 6, he knew that he wanted to be a doctor. He recalls playing doctor with his two sisters. He would treat their dolls and mark their faces with the measles. And he would concoct a make-believe Tilo, a medicinal plant, in milk, that the children would drink at the first sign of measles or mumps to push the fever and virus out of the body.

“I was always a dreamer since I was a boy,” Dr. Rivero said. “I dreamed of becoming a doctor.”

His mother, Maria, was so proud of his dreams, as she shared the same dream. As a young woman, she worked in a pharmacy with her uncle. Maria liked the chemistry of concocting the medicine and she wanted to go to medical school. But her uncle encouraged her to become a pharmacist, which did not interest her.

“My mother has a great memory and she was very curious,” he said. “She would have been a good doctor. Even today at 82, she has a good memory. She was always a good Mom. She gave us the space to make our own goals and she never imposed anything on us.”

Maria ended up becoming a homemaker after meeting his father, Jorge, an appliance salesman.

“My father was a hard worker and he was committed to his family,” Dr. Rivero reflected.

Yet, at six years old, his parents divorced. Jorge was the emotional pillar of support for his father in the aftermath of the divorce. Life changed. Jorge had to move from his childhood home and neighborhood, but he was relieved that he did not have to change schools.

He attended an American Congregational School founded by missionaries. This school was a part of Catholic parish that Jorge’s family was a member of in Lima. His classes were in both Spanish and English. By the time he graduated from fifth grade, Jorge could read, write and speak in English.

“I had a diverse education,” Dr. Rivero said. “I had a teacher from Ireland, Spain, the Philippines and many American and Peruvian teachers.”

He recalls in fifth grade being intrigued by the human body and skeleton. By high school, he loved to go to class and listen to his teachers.

“I never missed any school,” he said. “I enjoyed school for learning, not for the grades. I was B student until I started to look around at what medical school I wanted to go to. Then I realized I would be competing with the cream of the crop. I started getting A’s in my last year.”

He recalled his chemistry teacher would give lectures at the beginning of every class.  He drummed in Jorge the importance of working hard, making your dreams a reality and having passion for a career.

“My chemistry teacher had a big impact on me,” he said. “I still remember today some of the lessons he taught us.”

After graduating high school, Jorge attended an academy that trained him for the medical school entrance exam. The competition was fierce with 1,300 applicants vying for 106 spots at a renowned private medical school in Lima. He attended classes from April to December and then took the test. He came in 128, only 22 spots shy of being accepted to the school. Disappointed but even more driven, he returned to the academy to prepare for the following year’s entrance exam. In the academy, he met other students who had taken the test three and four times. So, he was cautiously confident as he entered the test for the second time.

The day the test results were posted he and his friend Francisco hopped a bus to the university. When he arrived there, he heard voices in the crowd as he exited the bus.

“He got in, grab him,” said the voices of some of the medical students. They tackled him and marched him to the window to see the list on campus. He was number 28 on the list.

Elated, he succumbed to what he knew would come next—a ritual of acceptance by the medical students of the university. Jorge was taken to the field where his hair was shaved off. As he looked down the field at the other new accepted students of his class, he saw Francisco having his hair shaved off.

After the ritual of acceptance, he called his mother on a pay phone to share the news. She burst into tears of joy. His father graciously paid for his tuition, which was quite a bit more than if he attended the public medical school in Lima.

“My father’s great legacy was his financial commitment to help me with medical school,” Jorge said.

In medical school, his friend Benjamin Robalino convinced Jorge to take the test to do his residency in America. To his surprise, he passed. After completing his internship practicing medicine in the Navy and later serving in public health medicine, he travelled to Los Angeles to prepare for the test to practice medicine in America. He felt welcome in Los Angeles among a large Latino community.

After six months, he travelled up on San Francisco to live with his sister and cousin. Within a year, he took the test and passed. The next step was to be matched with a residency program. He went out on a serendipitous blind date the day that he found out he did not receive a match for a residency program. He would have to spend another year in San Francisco without practicing medicine.

His cousin set up the blind double date with his future wife, Lourdes. She was not too fond of the blind date concept. It was not common in South America. She had immigrated to San Francisco from Honduras when she was 16 years old.

“Lourdes was hesitant, her body language showed it,” he said, chuckling at the memory. They met at a famous Brazilian Club. As the live music played, she eventually warmed to Jorge and they started dating. After a year, he was accepted to do his residency in family medicine in Cleveland, Ohio. He and Lourdes visited back and forth. Jorge struggled to adjust to a major culture shock and staying up all night on call at the hospital.

“The first year was brutal,” he recalled.

Lourdes left her banking position in the financial district of San Francisco to join him in Cleveland after a year. They had a small wedding in Cleveland in June 1987 and then they travelled to Peru to have a church wedding in the company of family and friends.

In 1989, they moved to Los Angeles where Dr. Rivero practiced geriatric medicine through a fellowship at USC. Not long after, they started their family in Mission Viejo because they fell in love with the neighborhood. Dr. Rivero’s greatest joy is being committed as a father to his children Eric, Gabriela and Andres.

“I am like my father—family oriented,” he said, proudly. “We have raised three children who are focused on their education but also very well-rounded.”

The spirit of his father and his grandfather live on in him today.

“I think I discovered how to interact with the elderly while taking care of my grandfather,” Dr. Rivero said. “He had a lot of geriatric issues, but he was such an interesting guy. I loved to hear his stories. And I love the social component as well as the clinical component of caring for my elderly patients.”

After USC, Dr. Rivero joined the faculty at University of California, Irvine where he cared for a large senior population that opened a window to understanding the inner workings of hospice. He noticed that when he referred patients to Hospice Care of the West and made the decision to be the attending doctor in the care of his patients, the nurses always collaborated with him on symptom management. He had not had that experience with other hospices. Through Hospice Care of the West, he began to see the benefits of hospice care improving the quality of life for his patients and their families at home. In 2006, he was asked to join as Medical Director of Hospice Care of the West. Not long after, he left UCI to go into private practice with Senior Health Care Associates.

“As an elderly care doctor, I have to be sensitive to picking up on the loss of function in my patients,” Dr. Rivero said. “And, I have learned to be comfortable with dying issues. I see hospice care as part of my approach when the goals to improve function change for my patients and they reach a point of no longer getting better. I provide continuity of care as they go on hospice. I’m not signing them out to anybody else. My commitment is there.”

Commitment and persistence are woven throughout Dr. Rivero’s life dedicated to making life better for seniors and their families. Looking back, he leaves this piece of wisdom for his children and the next generation.

“Pursue your dreams whatever it takes, obtain the tools and be persistent. Sometimes it takes longer than you’ve dreamed to achieve it, but I have tested it out and I am living proof that with persistence and the right tools you will make your dreams a reality.”

The post Celebrating the Life Journey of Our Hospice Doctor appeared first on Our Life Celebrations.